


Just don’t leave me, Ok?

by littlemissstark315



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Depression, Happy Ending, M/M, Suicide Attempt, angst with fluff, depression hit hard and I needed to write something, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 10:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14892996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissstark315/pseuds/littlemissstark315
Summary: Grif has known he was depressed for the longest time, he just never did anything about it it comes to a breaking point and Simmons saves the day but now Grif actually has to talk about his feelings and but at least he isn’t the only one.





	Just don’t leave me, Ok?

 

Grif knew for the longest time he has depression. Hell, it probably started when he was barely a teenager, surviving from his neglect-yet-somehow-made-it-worse-parents, making sure he and his sister always had enough food to eat when his parents forgot to go shopping.

 

He just didn’t notice it then, the symptoms too subtle and too much on his mind and it’s not like his parents would do anything to help him anyway.

 

Then he got fucking drafted to blood Gulch to even the numbers so apparently even the army knew Grif was only talented in taking up space.

 

His depression had its better days here surprisingly. He had people to talk to that entertained him, even if they don’t always get along and there was less stress since all they really did was stand around and talk and shipments of supplies (food) came semi-weekly so he didn’t have to worry about starving.

 

But he still had those days. Those days were you just want to do...nothing. You want to be nothing. You want to be one with the wall or bed and pretend you don’t exist. Luckily he never got any concerned looks, just got labeled “the lazy one that loves naps” and he’s ok with that. It’s not wrong even if there is much more to that but the label means he doesn’t have to talk to these idiots.

 

He wondered when he could go home, of this war was ever going to end, why were they even here in the first place.

 

The longer it went on, the worse his “bad days” became. He lost sleep at night, thinking about and missing home. Missing his sister, missing days were he felt ok. 

 

He stayed up most nights now, mind filled with anxiety. He tried walking around outside of red base, sneaking a smoke away from Simmons; he can already hear him lecturing him on lung cancer which he would gladly take at this point.

 

He’s not sure how long it took to get to this breaking point but he sat on top of red base, smoking a cigarette through shaking fingers and blurry eyes as his pistol sat on his lap, an internal argument inside his head.

 

Would it be so bad to end it? Red team would be fucking perfect without him? Sarge could lead without having to insult him every five minutes and Simmons would thrive under that leadership, he just knew it.

 

Why did they need him? Why was he the one drafted into this stupid war?

 

He took another drag before letting it out shakily before sucking in a breath, tears finally falling. 

 

He threw the stub of the cigarette to the ground below before taking a better hold of the pistol, feeling as if it were taking to him, mocking him, urging him to pull the trigger.

 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, bringing the gun to his temple, feeling the press of the barrel against his skin.

 

“Grif?” He heard it but he thought maybe it was just his mind making things up, hearing hopeful voices by wishful thinking. Why would Simmons come and help him? But there was rushed footsteps and he panicked and pulled the trigger.

 

The gun went off right next to his head, the bullet being shot into the air in front of him before the gun was thrown out of his shocked hand, staying terrifyingly still.

 

Hands were gripping his shoulders, turning him, his ears ringing from the gunshot. He barely heard what Simmons was saying but he looked terrified. His eyes watery and his mouth was moving. He stayed quiet, feeling like a child that got caught doing something wrong. He felt the tears keep falling down his face and Simmons helping him up.

 

His hearing came back when Simmons got him sat down in the kitchen of red base, putting a tea kettle on and watching Grif like a worried mother.

 

Simmons had his hands on his hips as he turned back to Grif from the stove. “What the hell?” Grif didn’t look at him, couldn’t look at him. Simmons continued, starting to pace. “How long has that been going on? How long have you wanted to kill your self?” Grif let out a breath, wiping his eyes. “Why do you even care?” Simmons looked confused, eyes a little wide. “What the fuck? Of course I fucking care you idiot.” Simmons sat down on the chair closest to him, close to grif, god he was terrified to leave him for five minutes.

 

“How long have you been depressed?” Grif sniffled, a humorless smile on his face. “A long fucking time.” “Do you take any medication?” “Fuck no.” “So you’ve never gone to the doctor about it?” Grif gave him a look. “Not like I was ever able to even if I wanted to.” “Well maybe you should.” Grif gave him a pointed look, although watery and he felt a lump growing in his throat again. “Where the fuck would I go? We’re in the middle of a fucking canyon.” “You can’t talk to me?” Grif swallowed, wiping tears away. “You?”

 

Simmons nodded. “I know we insult each other and pick fights but you can talk to me. If it’s this serious that you want to fucking blow your brains out you can talk to me. I’ve struggled with my own depression, I have my own coping mechanisms, please, just talk to me.” His voice got quiet at the end, eyes watery again. “I know we don’t always get along but I actually Fucking care about your lazyass.” It went quiet between them, grif letting those words sink in before he asked his own question. “Why were you up there?” “Huh?” Simmons was confused, grif continued.

 

“The roof. Why were you up there? You never stay up past 11.” He noticed when he looked up Simmons was blushing and looking away. “I was doing some thinking.” “Thinking?” Grif parroted. “Of what exactly?” He continued and Simmons as definitely avoiding looking at him now.“You.” Grifs eyes got wide. “Me?” The tea kettle whistler and Simmons got up fast. Ready to avoid the awkward conversation as he poured them both tea. 

 

Grif stood up, walking closer to him. “Simmons, don’t leave me off like that, why were you thinking of me? Of all things you could actually fill your mind with.” Simmons turned, breathing heavy, face red. “I’m not sure I want to spring it on you in your fragile state.” Grif glared at him. “Cut the shit Simmons and tell me.” Simmons sputtered a few times before moving quickly and kissing Grif before he could lose courage.

 

Grif was shocked but didn’t have time to kiss back as Simmons moved away fast, eyes wide and terrified, waiting for a rejection. 

Grif looked away, quiet and thinking but that was a bad idea as Simmons tried to run off but Grif grabbed his arm. “Hey, I didn’t get to tell you what I think.” “I’m not sure I want to know.” Grif smiled, weakly. “Oh you wanna know.” And he leaned in, crashing his lips to Simmons, gentle but trying to convey every feeling he had for the nerd.

 

Simmons, yelped as Grif connected their lips again before relaxing and wrapping his arms around the other, holding him so impossibly close.

They pulled away and Simmons was at a loss for words. This had to be too good to be true. Grif let out a breath, a little scared and a little excited. “I want to try this, if you want to.” Simmons nodded. “Yes! Yes, I do.” Grif nodded, snuggling into Simmons chest, inhaling the scent of his laundry detergent. Simmons was a little lost but happy as he held grif close, scared to let him go. “Hey, Simmons?” “Yeah?” “Can we go back to sleep?” Simmons was quiet, thinking of Grif on the roof, pistol against his head. Would that happen if he went to sleep? “Yeah...just...” His voice broke and he held Grif a little closer. “Just don’t leave me, Ok?” “I won’t.”


End file.
